It felt weird to watch this young woman who was, at that moment, carrying my children. I was face to face with the evidence of my inability to conceive and was staring at my incompetence in the face. But I was not jealous. Instead, I prayed in my heart for this Hindu girl and my children in her womb. She was the angel God had placed in my way to make this journey easier. Up until that moment, we had been walking as two individuals but with the pregnancy news, we became one – in purpose and reality – my surrogate, my helper, the one who took over the race where I could not continue. I had passed on the baton and she was not about to let it drop. Not on her watch.
It’s a race to the finish line.
…Five days after the delivery, it was time for Pooja to go home. I cried so much that day. She had been my companion for thirteen months, and we forged a close friendship during the last nine. She had exceeded my expectations and made the journey worthwhile. I am indebted to her for her sacrifice, her selflessness, love, commitment, and dedication. She gave me hope when there was none, courage when my heart failed , confidence where there should have been shame.
She brought me redemption.
Pooja restored my pride, honour, and dignity as a woman, and gave me a place on earth as a mother. I will be eternally grateful to this extraordinary woman, my surrogate.